Down The Barrel
by MasterRedcoat
Summary: The Sharpshooter has only the meaning to kill. But when he loses contracts to a beautiful British Redcoat. Caleb Garret will pursue this female killer for answers, only for the both of them to end up realising that 'Love At First Sight' isn't just a phrase... Rated M for graphic violence, language and Sexual scenes in later chapters.


**The cocky Sharpshooter Caleb Garret has had his kill stolen by a mysterious British soldier, after a long chase, he'll realise just what he's dealing with and ho they both find out Love at First Sight really is true...**

**Enjoy and Review!**

* * *

The sun was shining; the vegetation of the forest was withered dry and crunchy in the blazing American sun. His head was propped on a rock, the crunched up grassland matching his Mahogany and Beige attire. The Sharpshooter was laid out flat along his roll-mat, which he kept stored at his back underneath his leather cape, which he draped over his coat. His right knee was arched upwards whilst his left leg stretched out straight, his gloved hands were interlocked behind his head and his wide Trapper hat was pulled slightly over his eyes to shield them from the sun as the feather strapped to the stole twitched in the dead wind. A piece of dried up straw was in his mouth as he thoughtfully twirled it around and chewed it silently. His beard bristled against the prickly straw and brushed against the fur collar of his Minuteman jacket as he grumbled to himself in boredom. Caleb Garret was a solitary man at heart, living in the wild and minding his own 'business'. At his side lay a flintlock Long Rifle, it was a black body, like polished dark oak, ornamented with white patterns at the grip and was tipped with a long double-edged razor sharp socket bayonet. He was humming the British Grenadiers regimental march in his head, when he was disturbed by a discreetly rowdy conversation. Garret spat the straw into the air before silently picking up his rifle and orientating himself to the noise. He turned silently around so his head was where his feet were and turned over so his chest was pressed against the dead vegetation. He slowly commando crawled to the edge of the banking to see 2 armed thugs, A Mole and a Lookout. They were arguing over something but either way, they were hostile, and they were contracts to the Sharpshooter's 'business'. He thumbed back the hammer of his rifle until he heard a sharp click and aimed downwards into the thugs.

"Fuckin' tourists…" Garret murmured as his finger played with the trigger, his eye keeping a bead on the Mole; he'd have to kill the Lookout quickly so he didn't reveal his position to other contracts.

* * *

But then, a flash of red, as a figure in a scarlet red jacket wearing a black Tricorn hat with white leggings leaped out of the blue onto the Lookout, a pained whine was heard sharply as a dagger was thrust into the back of his neck. Upon rising, the Mole nervously drew a short sword, taking a predictable and easily avoidable swing at the Redcoat. The British soldier vaulted around the swing with ease.

"Shit!" The Mole cried, as the Redcoat brought out their own flash of steel. The British army sword cut effortlessly through the Mole's throat as he clumsily tried to patch his throat; he was gurgling and bleeding out at a sickly rate as he collapsed to the floor. He reached a trembling hand to the Redcoat, blood pouring and spurting from his opened neck, who merely kicked the hand away. Garret rose from the banking as the Redcoat began to casually fleet the scene. He gave chase, wanting some payback for his lost assignment.

"First day. My first day back and some fucking Tea-sipper stole my contracts! Unbelievable!" Garret murmured to himself, as twigs and the dead wind whipped directly into and past his face. He was stopped when he broke the tree line by a group of thugs that were deemed as optional yet hostile targets. They instantly recognised Garret, who was pointed out by a Recruit.

"Over there! THE SHARPSHOOTER!" The entire band turned around, drawing hatchets, swords and muskets. _'Shit! Only way to that rival of mine is through these jokers!'_ Garret thought aloud in his head, realising there was no easy way out of this.

* * *

He began a calm sprint towards the men who charged Garret with ferocity. Ferocity, but no control or skill; Caleb could see it easily in their eyes. He slung his Rifle from around his shoulder and gripped it by the barrel and body, wielding it like a heavy club. He swung into the first man, using both his and the Scout's own momentum against him. The Scout was flung from his feet as the rifle stock crashed into his nose, shattering his face in a gory shower of red; he landed on the floor and didn't move again. Caleb barely dodged the bayonet lunge of another Mole, seeing his opportunity rise, the Sharpshooter slammed the body of his rifle down on the Mole's whilst he was attempting to recover from his failed lunge. The musket was lodged into the mud and wouldn't come out, Garret then swung the rifle upwards whilst holding it horizontally, causing the Mole's head to jolt upwards as his nose snapped and began to gush blood. The Mole's neck was exposed and upon reaching the climax of his uppercut, Garret turned his rifle whilst arching it downwards and rammed the bayonet into the thug's exposed throat. Fresh blood exploded onto Garret's long coat, staining the beige and adding more 'decoration' to the rifle, as he roughly shoved the dying Mole from his blade with a sharp slam with the palm of his hand, leaving him to choke on his own blood. A Captain, presumably of the group charged Garret with a Dirk, Caleb was constantly dodging and ducking swipes and kicks; even a glancing blow from either strike could result in being left open to the next fatal strike. The Sharpshooter tried swinging his rifle to the right, hoping either the heavy firearm or the bayonet would disable the Captain's right arm, he blocked this cunningly with his Dirk with a fiendish smile; Caleb wasn't expecting that…

"Wasn't expecting that now wasn't ya?" The Captain taunted in an irritatingly intelligent Welsh accent. He viciously swung his arm right, swinging Caleb off balance to the left as he prepared to bring his dagger into the air to bring down into the Sharpshooter's skull. Garret was hoping he'd spin him away like that, he smirked cunningly and used this new-found momentum to spin in a 360 left cycle, as he ran the bayonet thorough the Captain's torso. Caleb was satisfied to hear a whining gasp for air, and the sight of blood leaking through the Navy blue and Crimson uniform. The captain dropped his Dirk to the dry rock-hard ground and gripped the rifle barrel in shock and agony. The Sharpshooter spat into the Captain's face before mockingly replying,

"Wasn't expecting **THAT** now weren't you?" A sharp cry was heard from behind as a Spy held a hatchet high, he swung downwards awkwardly, and Garret viciously tore the rifle upwards to block the strike. The bayonet was still wedged in the Captain's flesh as he moaned with pain when he tore the fresh wound open to block his colleague's strike. The Spy was attempting to make a similar attack, and then the Sharpshooter got an idea.

* * *

He'd need more power, and as the Spy prepared to strike again. The Sharpshooter pushed his rifle further inwards; killing the Captain instantly as the rifle impaled him to the end of the muzzle. As the Spy left his chest exposed, Garret swiftly tore the rifle from the Captain's still standing corpse as he rammed the stock past his own hip in a straight line. He heard the satisfying crunch of metal and wood on bone, and a young scream filled his ears. He turned his head slightly to see the Spy collapse to his knees, _'Dunno…Maybe broke his top 3 ribs, shattered his Diaphragm…' _Caleb analysed the damage in his head; either way the Spy was noisily coughing up blood and vomit whilst his skin was turning pale. Caleb faced the Captain once again and swung the firearm around forcefully, striking the Captain with the butt of the rifle. The Captain tumbled to the ground and bled profusely from his wounds. Upon recovering from the attack, the Sharpshooter decided to use the angle of the butt swing's climax as a channel for a double attack as he once again gripped his rifle by the grip and swung upwards like a golfer teeing off in a game. The swing struck the Spy in the face, taking him off his feet, violently thudding to the ground and gurgling on blood.

"Fore!" Caleb yelled with a chuckle, as a heavy roar filled his ears. He turned just in time to see a Hunter slash with a sword downwards. If it weren't for the dim-witted Tracker's inaccuracy, which blasted his friend's sword from his hand, Caleb's skull would have been splintered in 2. In a fit of rage, the Hunter side-stepped backwards to avoid Garret's jab of the bayonet. The Hunter brutally slammed his fist down onto the rifle and knocked it from Caleb's hand. The Hunter laughed maliciously as he grabbed Caleb by the hem of his scarf. Caleb sharply responded with 2 rapid jabs to the face, which caused the Hunter to lose his grip and stumble. Caleb then gave a large punch to the Hunter's gut as he whined for breath. The Hunter shoved Garret away, as he combined drawing his musket with a sneaky uppercut, which Garret dodged. He caught the barrel when it was parallel to both his and the Hunter's chest as they wrestled over the control of it. Garret then put force into his left arm, and like a piston pumping forward, shoved forward, crashing the musket barrel into the bridge of the Hunter's nose, He foolishly let his right hand go of the musket as he clutched his broken nose. He screamed angrily through roars at the Tracker.

"Shoot him! FOR FUCK'S SAKES SHO-" The Hunter was cut off as Garret put force into his right arm and slammed the stock into the Hunter's stomach, winding him again as the Tracker frantically attempted to reload. Garret then roughly shoulder barged the weakened Hunter, shaking his grip from the musket and allowing Garret to swing the bayonet down in a 225 degree angle. The bayonet slashed the Hunter's face open like scissors through paper, as red spewed from the neat cut on his face like 2 red lips parting. Upon descent, Caleb then impaled the Hunter through the torso as a Tracker brought his newly loaded musket to bear. Caleb's eyes widened, and he side-stepped, bringing the Hunter with him to face the musket ball. Blood popped through the lower back of the Hunter, passing through the hip and missing the Sharpshooter by an inch via tearing a nice thumb sized hole in his Minuteman cape. as Caleb's human shield trick actually worked, he then clicked the musket's hammer with satisfaction; it was loaded. He grimly shoved the musket further through the dying Hunter; the muzzle protruded from the Hunter's back in a flash of crimson. The Tracker froze with fear, every one of his words tones were cracking with fright.

"You…. You sick…you sick motherfu-" Caleb pulled the trigger, and the lethal lead ball tore through the Tracker's skull, flinging him to the floor like a broken doll. He lazily let go of the musket handle, allowing it, and its impaled wielder to crash to the red and tan grass. He gave a heavy sigh as the forest once again fell silent, as it wasn't choked with roars, clangs of steel on steel and screams of death.

* * *

Caleb was tired of this, as he spun round, his gloved left hand seizing another Lookout firmly but not lethally by the throat, he didn't care, as he stared at the ground, no even attempting to look into the Lookout's petrified face. Caleb then heard choked laughter as he cocked his head yet didn't look up either.

"What's so funny?" Garret said blandly, the Lookout didn't feel so threatened as he slowly reached for a knife in his back pouch.

"If…If you're trying to throttle me…you're not doing a great job of holding my throat tight..." He said amused, as he slowly drew the knife. Garret looked up for once into the Lookout's eyes. The face wasn't what he was expecting, no sorrow, or regret or anger, but actual humour! He gave a derisive grunt and murmured through an amused expression.

"Who said I was gonna choke you?" The Lookout was puzzled, but a sudden click sounded out from the Sharpshooter's wrist, and his long mechanical hidden blade extended and slithered through the Lookout's throat. The knife dropped from his hand like it wasn't even there, and his entire body went rigid from the cold steel. A single second later, the blade retracted into the mechanism and his lifeless body crumpled from Caleb's grip.

"Cocky fuck…" Caleb droned, but then his face sagged with boredom as the crunch of grass under boot was received by his keen ears, "C'mon, not another!" He then kicked his rifle into his grip and spun in a full circle, 180- degrees into a kneeling position and fired his bullet, just as one missed his head and brushed the feather on his hat. The Mole jilted with impact, the smoking flintlock pistol slipped from his hand as he crumpled to the floor. _'Got him, but the round won't kill him…' _Caleb knew this from the Mole's pained moan and drew his backup pistol.

"Time for clean up…" He murmured in that menacingly emotionless voice.

* * *

He strode towards the depression of the grass for where the final contract lay. He was whimpering and actually crying with fear as Caleb aimed his pistol at his forehead; a clear shot through the brain, no pain.

"Sorry pal, nothin' personal…" Caleb gestured with his free hand in a 'Hey, I'm sorry.' manner. "But look on the bright side…" He continued "…You're getting an easy way out." He aimed at the head and thumbed back the hammer, just as he felt a cold tip touch his neck.

"Nice and slow now sir." The voice was true English and very feminine. Caleb obeyed and slowly turned, surprisingly, the person caused his heart to leap and a strange itch to emanate from his crotch underneath his brogans. She was at least an inch shorter than he was; she had a very petite frame. She bore the same uniform of the British army she clearly was part of, her silk Scarlet jacket with forest green lapels and cuffs. White leggings, which were cut off at the knees by streamlined black boots. On her head she wore a black Tricorn cap with a white trim, and she wore a black linen shirt underneath her jacket. Her face looked beautiful in this sunlight, a soft face with soft and seemingly warm lips coated with black lipstick. Her hair was down but was put behind her head, leaving not a single feature on her gorgeous face obscured. Her eyes were a dark brown like her hair and seemingly stared into Caleb's soul and her smile had a seemingly seductive smirk. _'Mother of god… looks like love at first sight to me…' _Caleb thought aloud in his head, the only thing stopping him from expressing himself was the swift British spadron pressed against his neck. Her voice was soft and attractive like velvet, seemingly betraying her nature.

"There's a good boy." He eyes traced Caleb's figure carefully, the Redcoat was very professional, that or… Oh god is she feeling the same as Garret? He slowly lowered his arms in an attempt to loosen the bad feeling.

"Look lady, I'm just a regular guy okay?" She pressed the tip further at his neck and his arms were raised up again.

"Easy there pretty eyes, wouldn't want you to do something dumb whilst you have a pistol in your hand and I have a sword at your throat." She winked after the words 'pretty eyes', she was obviously professionally flirtatious, but Garret's hearing of the compliment caused him to drop his arms and lean forward, clearly ignoring the spadron.

"Pretty eyes, huh? You're quite a treat for the vision yourself, madam!" He gave a mock bow and spoke in a perfect English accent at the word 'Madam.' The Redcoat blushed affectionately but then slapped his cheek with the flat side of the sword, causing him to jolt and yelp sharply as the cold twang brought him back to reality. The Sharpshooter's face went back to cold defiance and stared mercilessly into the Redcoat's eyes.

"What were you doing here, civvy?" The Redcoat inquired, slightly lowering her spadron.

"Well, easy for you to say, seeing as you took 2 of the assholes I was gonna top myself, what were YOU doing here?" The Redcoat folded her arms across her chest, keeping a grip of the sword in her right hand.

"I had my orders…You knew them?" Her grip on the spadron tightened, and discreet murder crossed her face and mind. _'Shit, think of somethin' Garret!' _Caleb moaned in his head.

"Uh…I'm a Sharpshooter, hunting wild beasts and other rare animals and selling skin and meat for cash, those 2 guys were part of the same thugs that've been stealing my bounty for weeks now. You stole those two, and I never got round to killing the rest…" he said in mock anger._ 'Good save pal…'_ He thought in triumph. The Redcoat's eyes glinted with inspection.

"Never got round to killing the rest, eh?" She over-exaggerated with her body language as she gestured to the skilfully dispatched gang. Caleb looked around with his eyes, mouth agape as his body went rigid and his face was contorted with surprise.

"Um...Well…Shit…" He slapped the palm of his hand to his face, and the Redcoat giggled, her cheeks now visibly rosy with blush, as butterflies fluttered in her belly. She approached Caleb and began to sheathe her spadron.

"Relax, I won't tell Mr. Sharpshooter, between you and me." She winked again "See you in Boston…" and Caleb could see her blushing when he gave her a cheeky smile in return.

"Why are you doing this?" He inquired; her gaze still firmly locked on his, the Redcoat shrugged her shoulders.

"Secondarily, because you're just a regular Sharpshooter who I took the right to get his revenge on the gang away, and mainly because you got a nice arse." She licked her lips playfully, causing her black lipstick to shine in the American sun. "See you around." With that she began to walk off, leaving Garret stunned at what she said to him. This vicious killer was flirting with him and was feeling mutual feelings towards him, even though they've only just met; finally words escaped his mouth.

"Y'know, about me having a nice ass…" The Redcoat turned to him with a large grin. "That definitely goes for the both of his, sweetheart!" She gave him a large toothy smile at his response before leaning her head forward and pursing her lips together, she mocking blowing a kiss at him, then ran into the treeline, disappearing into the beige haze.

* * *

Garret smiled and returned to The Mole, who was still breathing. As Garret cocked his pistol once more, and aimed straight at his head. He gazed once more into the treeline before whispering to himself,

"For the first time in my life, I actually have something to pursue other than money and a target…" His gaze then dropped back into the sinister trademark stare of the Sharpshooter, as he pulled the trigger on the begging Mole, and his pistol spoke thunder.

**Hopefully, Caleb Garret will bump into Eleanor Mallow again and this time, formally introduce. Part 2 will be uploaded soon.**

**Reviews keep the passion burning!**


End file.
